


Candy-Coated

by twitchtipthegnawer



Category: Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku | Magical Girl Raising Project
Genre: F/F, Guro, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8657989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchtipthegnawer/pseuds/twitchtipthegnawer
Summary: A collection of ficlets written to fill femslash kinkmeme prompts. Various pairings and kinks, all from Magical Girl Raising Project. Individual chapters will have applicable warnings in the summary.The kinkmeme can be found here.





	1. Ruler/Yunael/Minael, Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sibling incest (though it's slight), mind control leading to dubcon, and me having trouble writing speech patterns in English for Japanese characters. Still, I hope you enjoy!

Sometimes, when the night’s quiet and boring and Tama and Swim Swim are busy, Ruler plays chess with Yunael and Minael. They insist that they be allowed to play together, since there’s no way they’ll ever beat her on her own. It pisses her off.

They also insist that they make bets on who wins, and the shit they bet is usually remarkably shallow. Honestly, spending real money while acting as a magical girl? What a waste.

This time, though, they’ve decided to bet something Ruler finds much more interesting. So she wins, because really, they’re not all that bright even combined. They pout about it, but when she orders Yunael to strip, she obeys.

In this form Yunael is positively tiny. Ruler vaguely wonders how old she is in real life (to be betting something like sex, Ruler would guess a college student) but she doesn’t care overly much. From her comfortable seat above Yunael, the slim angel makes a pretty picture.

When she orders Minael to transform is when she sees the first bit of hesitation. She doesn’t want to use her scepter just yet, so she simply stares the girl down. It’s remarkably easy.

“Now,” she says, when Minael is a pale pink vibe that looks huge in Yunael’s hands. “Tease your chest first.”

Yunael is flushed down her neck, bright red and unsightly. Ruler loves being the most composed person in the room. She also loved that Minael caved so easily, because it means that now she can hold up her scepter menacingly.

Switching the vibe onto its lowest setting, Yunael runs the phallic head over her chest. Her breasts are small, and her nipples pebble quickly under the light touches. She doesn’t seem particularly turned on at the moment, but Ruler’s eyes running up and down her naked body leave her covered in goosebumps.

“Spread your legs.” Yunael does, though now her muscles are shaking as though they want to close on their own. Ruler’s fingers itch to activate her power.

But not just yet, no. “Open your mouth, and lick your sister.” At the word _sister_ Yunael jerks, but she still does as she’s told. Her whispy, mousy hair looks adorable framing her face, and Ruler can’t wait to ruin it. “Do you think Minael can feel it?”

Abruptly lowering her hands, Yunael levels a glare at Ruler. “Okay, listen, if I’m going to be doing everything you say, the least you could do is not tease like that.”

“Did I ever say that I was going to bother being kind to such an incompetent fool?” Ruler asks, voice halfway amused and halfway delighted. “If you can’t follow orders like a good girl, maybe I’ll have to make you.”

Eyes widening, Yunael starts to shake her head, but Ruler can already feel the power coursing through her. “I hereby command you in the name of Ruler, Yunael. Fuck your mouth with your sister. Minael, allow her.”

The blunt head of the toy spreads Yunael’s mouth obscenely wide. She moves slowly, the only bit of freedom she has at the moment. Ruler doesn’t mind, however; this is only a prelude to the real fun.

When the toy is dripping with saliva and the novelty has gone out of seeing Yunael hollow her cheeks, Ruler says, “Stop. Put the toy between your legs.”

Defiantly, Yunael presses it between her knees. Ruler smirks at the way the stupid girl clearly doesn’t yet realize how vulnerable she is. “Turn up the vibration, and slide it higher. Don’t stop until I say so.”

Even before Minael reaches Yunael’s pussy, Yunael is shivering. Her thighs are probably sensitive, and that’s a rather pleasant surprise. Ruler considers ordering her to linger on them, but decides against it when she hears Yunael keen.

Moving very carefully, Ruler undoes her pants and slides them down one-handed. The arm holding her scepter stays perfectly steady, something she’s rather proud of. “Push the toy inside you quickly, then crawl towards me.” Panic flashes through Yunael’s eyes, but she has no choice. Her tiny hand spreads candy-pink lips, and then the toy is filling her.

Her body is so small and delicate that it only takes the tiniest edge of roughness to leave her quivering. Still, she does as she’s told and crawls. When she’s almost to Ruler’s feet, her expression turns briefly mutinous.

Ruler watches her spit on the pale grey shoe, and doesn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Lick it clean, trash,” she orders. Yunael has obeys with hatred in her big, shining eyes.

She finishes as quickly as she can get away with, and then she’s sitting back on her heels and glaring. Ruler doesn’t miss the way her hips shift restlessly, wanting to push into the vibe. It makes her next order even more _enticing._

“Lick me.” She doesn’t bother adjusting her clothing to make it easier, just watches while Yunael has to nuzzle her way through the fabric around her knees. The feathers on her wings are rustling. “And be thorough. Don’t use teeth.”

As soon as she’s done with this, she’ll order Minael to finger herself until her hands are pruning. She wonders if Minael will be all sticky and soaked in Yunael’s fluids, and even though she knows it’s unlikely she can’t help but hope.


	2. Snow White/Hardgore Alice, guro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underaged warning! Also I added a bit of hurt/comfort in here, because I love therapeutic hugs and Alice has captured my heart.

She never knows what to do when Alice gets injured. At first, panic gripped her chest, and the meer sight of organs and muscle and blood made her feel sick. She’s almost more disturbed at how used to it she is now.

But Alice doesn’t need medical attention the way a normal person (or even another magical girl) would. Snow White is expected to sit by her side while she bleeds , and do nothing.

If there’s anything Snow can’t do, it’s stand by while someone’s hurting. So lately she’s taken to giving Alice little “get better” kisses, whenever the wound isn’t too horrifying. It makes Alice’s face gain a bit more color than its usual pallor, so Snow figures she’s doing something right.

This time around, though, Snow… doesn’t really want to get her mouth on Alice’s wounds. But she also doesn’t want Alice to move too much, which is what she was insisting on doing. Snow appreciated that Alice wanted to help more, but it was ridiculous to expect her to do so with so many bones sticking out of her skin.

It would be better if Alice healed faster. As it is, Snow’s spent the last ten minutes sitting beside her, feeling increasingly worried as her bones don’t return to their proper positions. She really, really can’t take it anymore.

“Alice, is there any way I can help? You’re healing so slowly.” She’s proud of the way her voice only trembles a little bit.

Head tilting stiffly, Alice says, “No. It’s okay. It’s always like this.”

“I know, but…” Snow chews on her bottom lip, worry boiling in her tummy. “Maybe I could set the bones? I know I’m not the best person for it, but I don’t want to leave them like this much longer.”

For a moment, Snow thinks Alice will say no. Then her eyes slide to the ground, and she whispers in her deadpan voice, “I don’t see how it could hurt.”

Snow gives her a grateful smile, then takes her right arm in gentle hands. One of the bones in her forearm is sticking out, all jagged-edged and pointy looking. It’s not the worst break by far though, so Snow feels confident in her ability to help. Goodness knows she’s researched enough first aid by now.

“Breathe with me,” she orders. It’s something she always says, that somehow seems to help people even though they can never quite manage it.

Then she jerks the broken arm, pulls so the bone slips back into the wound it punctured from the inside. Alice doesn’t scream, because she never screams, but Snow knows it must hurt badly. She feels around the break carefully when it’s done, just to make sure it’s in place.

All seems to be in order, and she smiles at Alice. Something flickers through those purple eyes in return, and Snow hopes it’s gratefulness. Or maybe a smile in return?

“Um,” Snow ducks her head again, this time inspecting Alice’s ribs. “Would it be okay if I took off your top? Just for a bit, so I can fix your ribs.”

To her surprise, Alice actually flushes, the first proper blush Snow’s ever seen on her. “Like this is fine,” she says, bringing her newly set arm over her chest like she needs to protect her clothes from Snow. It’s kinda silly, but also embarrassing.

“Are you sure? I might hurt you worse. There’s a lotta stuff right by your ribs--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice answers softly. “Even if a lung or my heart is briefly punctured, it will heal with the rest of my body.”

That’s really not as encouraging as Alice probably meant it to be, but Snow can’t exactly think up a proper argument. It’s hard, when Alice looks so apathetic to her own pain. Snow can’t help but wonder what she’s like the rest of the time (if she’s anything like Sou was, well, Snow shouldn’t think about that).

Taking a deep breath, Snow steels herself anyway. Better to focus on the future, on taking care of her living allies, than on the past. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” she says.

Then she’s pressing on Alice’s rib, trying to be firm without being cruel. She can’t risk too much gentleness and only prolong the process; that would be needlessly painful. Of course, Alice wouldn’t make a sound no matter how much pain she’s in, but it’s the thought that counts.

There’s quite a bit of resistance at first. Snow tries changing the angle she’s pushing at, and suddenly it slides in with a _pop._ She’s about to sit back when she hears it.

Crackling, bubbling sounds that rise in Alice’s throat until she coughs rather wetly. Blood wells out of her mouth, and her eyes widen the tiniest fraction as her breathing picks up. Not in terror, though, this is something else. Small, hiccuping inhales, and oh no Snow hadn’t wanted this, she doesn’t know what to _do._

“I’m sorry,” she says, hugging Alice carefully and burying her face in the long hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t h-help you, I can’t help anyone.”

 _Couldn’t help La Pucelle,_ she thinks. She’s so cought up in her own misery that she doesn’t notice Alice’s arms coming up to hug her back, the congealing blood smearing all over her white clothing. But despite the gristly mess, Alice feels good. Comforting.

They hold onto each other for so long that Alice’s breathing evens again. Snow gradually stops crying, but keeps her hold on her friend. She knows she’s likely pressing on bruises and breaks and maybe even damaged organs. But Alice doesn’t seem to care, and if she doesn’t then maybe it’s okay for Snow to stop worrying for a bit too.


	3. Cranberry/Calamity Mary, Bloody violent hatesex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the blood and violence, this is actually enthusiastically consensual. I adore one of these characters with my whole heart and soul and hate the other so much. See if you can guess who.

They’ve been fighting for so long that Mary is tired down to her bones, and Cranberry won’t. Stop. Fucking. Smiling.

She doesn’t understand Cranberry at the best of times, but today is worse than usual. Cranberry sought her out specifically for a fight, and while Mary doesn’t mind fighting, _loves_ it in fact, she’s being denied the part she most wants. She can’t _win._

On the other hand, she’s not losing, and Cranberry is no pushover. A different person might feel some sense of accomplishment from that. All Mary feels is building frustration. For the past half hour, she’s been all snarls and growls.

“My my,” Cranberry says. She barely sounds winded. “You’re not living up to your full potential at all, are you? Letting your emotions get the best of you like that.”

“Shut up!” Mary’s shotgun shell blasts a hole in the wall where Cranberry had been standing two seconds ago.

All at once Cranberry is directly in front of her, infuriating smirk in place. She’s a bit bloody, a long scratch on her cheek where she barely dodged a bullet, and it’s the only bit of satisfaction Mary’s gotten. Suddenly, she wants at least _one_ thing to go her way.

Diving forward, Mary somehow ducks under the fingers that almost crushed her throat and finds herself pressed against Cranberry. It’s a dangerous position to be in, and adrenaline pounds through her veins.Pushing her lips against Cranberry’s is easy, compared to everything else.

Cranberry tastes like fucking cranberries, because of course she does. But her lips are soft and pliant with surprise, and Mary gets a hold on her shoulders before she can jerk back. Their mouths open at nearly the same time and the kiss turns deeper, then harsher-- like they’re still in the middle of the fight. Mary doesn’t mind the feeling.

“I suppose,” Cranberry murmurs against her lips. “That this is an acceptable alternative. If you can’t give me a good fight right now, we can always leave it ‘till later, yes?”

Mary answers with another kiss. She wants to get at Cranberry’s neck, and she’s pissed, so she grabs a fistful of that ridiculous collar and _yanks._ The sound of fabric tearing fills the night, and Mary’s glad they’re near the pier. No one’s around, so she can make as much noise as she wants.

A low laugh sounds above her when Mary bites under Cranberry’s jaw, and it only hitches a little bit on the pain. “That wasn’t very nice of you,” Cranberry says. Then she slides her hands up Mary’s back, and it feels more dangerous than it has any right to. “Though I suppose you’ve saved me most of the trouble of undressing you.”

Then there’s pain, sudden and white-hot and forcing her jaw to fall open around a cry. Cranberry used her nails to slice straight through the fabric of her costume, and cut into her skin with it.

“Bitch,” Mary snarls. “I can’t believe no one’s shot you yet. You’re so goddamn superior, think you’re so _smart.”_ She punctuates the last word with both hands gripping Cranberry’s chest, and gets a brief flutter of eyelashes for it.

“Well, I am rather good at distractions,” Cranberry replies. Her cruel hands rip off Mary’s skirt in seconds, revealing a red thong and a purple bruise from where Mary fell during the fight.

Before Mary can move Cranberry’s already putting her hands between her legs, tearing through her own tights. It’s so fast that Mary’s left blinking. And, coincidentally, completely wide open.

Sweeping Mary’s ankles out from under her, Cranberry watches in amusement as Mary crashes to the damp cement. Her head hits hard, and for a split second she feels dizziness overwhelm her. It’s enough for Cranberry to get situated, straddling Mary’s shoulders and facing her thighs.

The smell of musk is thick in the back of Mary’s throat. It’s full of pine and earth and clean, growing things, and Mary fucking hates it. It’s hard to focus on that when Cranberry shoves her pussy back into Mary’s face, though, and it’s even hardeer when Cranberry pushes aside her thong and licks delicately. “You taste so bitter,” she says, admonishing.

Just to get back at her Mary opens her mouth, expecting to taste-- she isn’t sure. But Cranberry is surprisingly sweet, and Mary can already feel her juices dripping down Mary’s cheeks. It’s almost as good as Jack Daniel’s, not that she’ll ever tell anyone.

It becomes an intense, overwhelming thing quickly. Mary’s having trouble breathing with Cranberry’s weight on her, but she won’t back down, _can’t_ when Cranberry’s head is bewtween her legs. Thorns keep scratching her thighs, and she finds she doesn’t care.

Their tongues press and curl inside one another, and Mary leaves long welts on Cranberry’s ass with her nails. Now they match.

If they could eat each other alive from the pussy, they probably would. At the very least Mary’s giving it her best shot, not afraid to include teeth or to get careless with her bucking hips.

Despite all that, Cranberry’s better than Mary is. Part of her wants to make it a competition between them, see who comes first, but she knows she’d lose. She’s spent most of her time with men, she can’t remember the last time she ate pussy, and Cranberry does it like she knows what she’s doing. Like she’s had practice.

As good as the tongue winding through her folds feels, Mary doesn’t let herself get lost in the feeling. Even now she’s pissed as fuck, and she can’t help but relish the thought of their next fight even more. _Fuck Cranberry,_ she thinks, _literally._


	4. Sister Nana/Weiss Winterprison, Crossdressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loving, gentle, caring sex. Also strapons.
> 
> Please note that I use both the names Weiss and Shizuku to refer to our lovely Winterprison. Nana’s name is luckily the same both IRL and as a magical girl. Sorry if this confuses anyone!

Nana will admit, when pushed, that the crossdressing is a big part of why she first flirted with Weiss. She doesn’t like men, never has and never will, but when she sees Weiss with that windswept bob and dignified clothing, well… she goes a bit weak in the knees.

It’s the main reason she’s made a habit of collecting men’s fashion magazines. Even though Nana loves frills and pastels, and she wouldn’t want to wear anything in Shizuku’s wardrobe, she can’t help herself. Every chance she gets, she wants to outfit her lover in the best clothing money can buy.

She’s never gone quite _this_ far before, though. Her mouth feels dry, no matter how many times she swallows. Winterprison’s even starting to look a bit self-conscious, which means Nana _really_ should speak soon, but it’s difficult when she looks like _that._ Hair slicked back, leather jacket over a white t-shirt, heavy belt hanging undone from her open jeans.

And curving from those jeans, long and thick and heavy, is the strap-on that Nana just bought her. It’s dark blue, but if she thinks of it as an extension of Shizuku--

Flushing bright red, she finally speaks. “I love it. I know it’s not you’re usual style, but you look so _daring_ as a greaser.”

Shizuku looks almost shy as she smiles at Nana. It’s cute, so cute, and Nana shivers where she kneels on the bed. She’s naked, and almost tempted to spread her legs and say, _Look at how excited you’ve made me._ That kind of shamelessness might be too much at the moment, unfortunately, so she desides to save it for another time.

Instead she holds her hands up, and strokes down Shizuku’s chest when she steps forward. Shizuku doesn’t have much in the way of breasts at the best of times, but the binder leaves her truly flat. Shizuku had said it wasn’t necessary; Nana hadn’t minded the expense at all.

“You’re so…” Weiss shakes her head, then climbs onto the bed next to Nana. “I wasn’t sure why you liked this so much, but I think I know now.”

“Oh, do you now?” Nana tilts her head for a kiss with easy familiarity, and no matter how Weiss is dressed she always tastes the same. _Minty._

“Yes,” Shizuku kisses her lightly, at first, presses the word into her lips.

But Nana wants a bit more heat tonight, more _passion,_ so she arches her spine to push her bare chest against Shizuku’s body. It sends a quiver up her spine, makes her reach up and cup her hands around Nana’s soft breasts. She kisses harder as she begins to knead, and it makes Nana moan.

The hard toy presses against Nana’s hip when Shizuku shifts her weight, entirely accidentally. Flushing, Shizuku almost pulls away, but Nana reaches down to grip her ass and hold her closer. They’ve used toys plenty before, but the newness of the situation leaves Shizuku bashful and Nana breathless. It’s better than she’d hoped for.

Slowly, they arrange themselves so Nana is lying on her back, her legs spread to accomodate Shizuku between them. With Shizuku still dressed, Nana is accutely aware of her nudity, and she _loves_ it. She can’t get enough of running her hands down the jacket sleeves, just to feel the texture of the leather.

“I love you,” she gasps as Shizuku finally releases her mouth, moving to nip her neck instead. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Sucking a deep red mark into her skin, Weiss hums softly. When she’s done she sits up just enough to look in Nana’s eyes and say, “I’m the one who should be saying that.”

As always, Nana squirms beneath the compliment. It makes the toy rock between her legs, and then she’s squirming for a different reason. The base of the toy has ridges that will rub against Weiss to make her feel good too, so Nana doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

In fact, she’s rather pleased with herself when Weiss makes a strangled noise and buries her face in the pillow beside Nana’s head. “Oh, love,” Nana wraps her arms around her girlfriend tightly. “I’m ready, you know I am.”

Running her shaking hands up and down Nana’s sides, Weiss shakes her head. “I know, but I’m not sure _I’m_ ready. You’re just-- you’re so hot, Nana.”

If that was meant to calm Nana down at all, it failed miserably. Calling her cute, Nana can understand. Beautiful and gorgeous are common enough from Winterprison’s mouth. But hot? It’s a shock to her system every time, and now that she’s learned to _believe_ it, it’s a positive one. Her spine arches a bit, pressing her round tummy to Shizuku’s flat one.

Apparently that’s enough for Shizuku to push past the last of her hesitation. She’s sitting up all at once, gripping Nana’s thighs and spreadding them wide. Before Nana can make a noise, Weiss is pressing in, and Nana’s struggling just to process how _full_ she feels.

For a long moment after Shizuku bottoms out they simply lie together, trembling. Then Shizuku begins rocking her hips, a steady, gentle rhythm that allows Nana to catch her breath between thrusts. It’s nice, god it’s nice, but she wants more.

Hooking her heels behind Weiss’ back, Nana pulls her in, uses every bit of her meager, human strength. Weiss gives one of her strangled moans, and Nana can’t help that her grin is a bit sharper than usual when she looks up through her lashes (that isn’t saying much; her smiles are usually soft as clouds, but still). This is _wonderful._


End file.
